Saving Sawyer | ✓

Chapter 02 | I'd Rather Party With Satan

Chapter 02 | I'd Rather Party With Satan

“People think she’s a hellraiser.”

“Is she?”

“I think she’s been kissed a lot.” ―  Footloose 

I smile a small smile at that part of the movie just like I always do whenever I watch this movie, which is way more than any normal human being should ever. Granted, I have mini-break-downs at nighttime on a regular basis and see a psychologist every single day aside from the weekends; clearly I am far from normal. It’s not that I think the line is funny or anything though, it just kind of hits home, I guess you could say. Leaning forward, I grab the remote control from the coffee table and turn the TV up a little bit louder since I’ve got the entire house to myself and can therefore watch the movie with the volume as high as I want without my mother demanding for me to turn it down. I sit the remote back down, pull the soft duvet hanging around my shoulders tighter around me and then raise a spoonful of Lucky Charms to my mouth, chomping on them.

It’s Saturday morning and if you can’t tell, I really have no life at all, ergo the reason that I’m sitting on the couch eating cereal (something my mother would most definitely kill me for if she knew I was doing it- she’s just...really weird and superstitious about stains) and watching my all-time favorite movie, which, if you couldn’t tell, is Footloose. The 2011 remake with Julianne Hough and Kenny Wormald, I mean, not the super-old gross one with Kevin Bacon. I mean, Kevin Bacon’s a good actor and I’m sure it’s a fine movie and all with him in there but I’m also slightly sure that the 2011 remake is way better.

I’m able to get through the next five minutes or so of the movie before I’m distracted by the sound of the front door bursting open, which makes me jump a little bit because I wasn’t expecting my mother or brother to be back home already. My mother’s a CEO at some company and I really don’t even know what she does or what that is but she does make quite a bit of money, I guess. So, that’s where she is, at work. I don’t know where my brother is though. So, either one of them is back or someone is breaking in. I put my cereal bowl on the coffee table and then pause the movie, crawling down the couch, grabbing the house phone from its receiver thing, prepared to call someone in case this actually is a robber who clearly doesn’t know how robbery goes. 

I hear the footsteps getting closer and my heart starts thumping in my chest or wherever it’s located, because, like I’m sure you’ve noticed, I scare easily. When the person rounds the corner though, coming out of the corridor that leads from the front door to the living room, I let out a sigh of relief when I see who it is.

“Oh, thank God- it’s just you,” I say to Beckett, who’s looking at me like I’m crazy...which I guess I kind of am. I mean, not crazy people don’t have to see specialized doctors five out of seven days a week to tell them about their problems and daily life and whatnot.

“Yeah,” Beckett confirms slowly, giving me a strange look. “Who’d you think that it was?” He wonders, dropping his black Nike duffel bag thing down on the armchair and walking around the back of the couch, ruffling my already messy hair up with his hand as he passes by, heading into the kitchen.

Given how stinky and gross looking my brother is right now, I’m assuming he just came from the Rec Center, which is this little fitness place where he and his friends work out and play basketball and other things like that. Usually, he brings one or two of his friends over and I don’t mind it too much because usually when my brother gets home on the weekends, I’m still up in my bedroom, sleeping.

“I thought that it was a robber,” I inform him truthfully, putting the phone back down.

“Coming in through the front door? Really Sawyer?” My brother laughs loudly from the kitchen.